


The First and Last

by EggCheeseHam



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akira has shitty parents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, guess who suffers, its sad time bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 07:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggCheeseHam/pseuds/EggCheeseHam
Summary: He knows that tonight he will not be seeing any stars.(Yusuke searches, desperately, for the people that have heard Akira's last words).--For the Shukita Big Bang 2019





	The First and Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SulaSafeRoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SulaSafeRoom/gifts).

> This is my second big bang fic, and this one is for the Shukita Reverse Bang based on lovely art by Sula (✿╹◡╹) 
> 
> [im taking fic comms ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)](https://thedemonofsloth.tumblr.com/ficcommisions)

It's already the fifth time that he's bothering Sojiro (probably the sixth; hell, he's already lost count), and the answer is always the same.

No, I don't know. I'm sorry, but I can't reach them. Listen, I really don't know, okay? No, no, no, no, no. 

Only when Yusuke gets to his fifth bite of his curry rice does he realise that something doesn't feel right. He starts pleading with Sojiro behind the counter, and then he's on the phone making phone calls. He dials anyone he can reach, any contact that he can remember on the top of his head. His friends, his classmates, Akira’s acquaintances. There are trails of phone numbers, of kind voices struggling to make sense of an emergency that they don’t fully understand.

“Do you know where his parents are?” Yusuke shrieks. 

But no one can. On the television in the dingy cafe, there’s a medical talk show that always broadcasts at noon every weekend, with local celebrities and doctors in lab coats seated on bar stools, talking about the symptoms of heart disease with TV smiles on their faces. Yusuke tries to drown out their voices to the sound of the running tap and the _ clink clank _of ceramic plates and steel cutlery. 

He convinces Sojiro to dig out his old contacts and he dials each and every one. The people behind the phone all give him the same, disappointing answer. Some of them haven't been in touch with his parents for a long time. 

By the time he's done the curry has long turned cold. Yusuke requests to have his stale meal packed, then he trudges back to his dorm, a heavy sigh leaving his lips every five minutes. 

He finds himself growing annoyed at the students crowding around the hallway of the dormitory building, resisting the urge to shove them out of the way. Instead, he walks past them quietly, then slams the door with enough force that it rattles the frame.

He curls himself into a ball in a corner furthest away from the window, wanting nothing but to shrink away from the world and disappear. But the world isn't as nice as to grant him his wishes, for the next day arrives and he is still in the land of the living. 

There is knocking at his door, followed by the muffled, concerned voice of one of the teachers. She asks if he's okay, to which he replies that he's fine, hoping that the barrier between them can muffle the weariness in his tone. She then tells him that he can take the day off school, and to approach her if he has any issues. 

Still huddled in the corner, he waits for the teacher to leave. The _ tap tap _of her heels fade away with the chatter of students in the hallway preparing for class. He continues to wait until the noise outside dies down considerably, before opening the packet of leftover curry from yesterday. There is a weird smell but he eats it anyway. 

When he is done, he packs his bags and heads out to the train station, not bothering to change into a fresh set of clothes because honestly, he finds little point in doing so.

* * *

As the train continues further down its path, more and more passengers get up and leave. It isn’t until the couple with their crying infant step out of the cabin does he realise that it’s dead quiet. Is he the only passenger left on board?

Yusuke looks out of his window to see vast green fields and wooden cottages, all of them becoming a blur of colours as the train picks up speed. After some time, he falls asleep and wakes up to the hissing of the train’s engines. The green fields and cottages are no longer a blur. He steps out onto the empty train station with his lightweight bag. Strangely enough, he expects someone to tap him on the shoulder, for him to turn around and see that it’s Akira’s parents giving him a quizzical glance. 

The town’s streets are mostly empty. He walks down the path, passing by the occasional biker. Usually he’d be unnerved by the lack of inhabitants, but it _ is _ mid afternoon on a Monday, after all.

Taking a few turns, Yusuke reaches a quaint shop with its distinctive red and blue sign. He frowns at the glaring neon colours that seemed even more bright in the afternoon sun. The designer must have a terrible grasp in colour theory. The shop owner who’s restocking supplies notices him staring and waves. 

“Young man, are you looking for something?” The man takes a break to wipe the sweat from his brow. There’s a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“Ah, I’m looking for Mr and Mrs Kurusu. Have you seen them?”

The man frowns. “Hmm… haven’t seen them around lately. Aren’t they busy?”

For the past few days Yusuke’s been convinced that they’re busy, but busy doesn’t mean cutting off all contact and leaving phone calls on voicemail.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten a single clue.”

“Well, the last time I saw them was… some time ago.”

“Which is?”

“It’s… a long time ago.”

Yusuke feels a vein burst. “That doesn’t help in the slightest.”

The man just shrugs. “That’s all I remember. Mr Kurusu came one day to buy a calligraphy brush. That was the only time he visited my store.”

“And Mrs Kurusu?” 

“Doesn’t care about art. Why would she even bother coming here?”

Yusuke bows his head in frustration. The shop owner looks at him for a moment, before continuing to restock the paintbrushes. When the current holder is full, he shifts his gaze to the next available one. “Apologies. But perhaps there’s something in my store that can bring your eccentrics back.”

The shop owner then gestures to the various supplies he has in stock, and Yusuke feels a second vein has burst. The shop owner’s words fade into the background, and his hands and feet start to grow cold. For some reason, at this very moment, his voice sounds like nails scratching on a chalkboard. 

“How rude! Who are you calling an eccentric?”

“Am I wrong? You clearly didn’t show any signs of _ not _being an eccentric when you last came here.” The man chuckles, covering his mouth as if trying to hide his grin.

Yusuke can feel his cheeks grow red, and he wonders what shade of red his blush is. “It’s just… I couldn’t help myself! You know how expensive things are in Tokyo!”

“I agree, which is why my store prides itself in low prices.” He picks up a paintbrush and twirls it in between his fingers. “I can show you this new collection that just came in stock...”

* * *

If anyone had told Yusuke that in the future he’d be dating someone, he’d laugh at them, and rightfully so. Because it’ll mean that someone out there finds him remotely attractive, and the thought weirded him out. The concept is too foreign; too hard to grasp on. 

His first date had been sweet, albeit stressful—like how first dates usually are—because dates can be _ expensive _. Transportation fees, food, entertainment and gifts fees can accumulate if he isn’t careful. By no means is Akira high maintenance, but Yusuke’s financial situation makes it difficult for him to not scrutinize receipts and have bean sprouts as a substitute for rice. 

A few days before their date, Yusuke googled _ cheap date ideas _ and spent hours upon hours reading online magazine articles and blog posts written by middle aged women. At some point, he had forgotten a huge chunk of what he read. He had to dig them all again and write them down on yellowed notebook paper. When he was done, he folded them into neat, small squares and tucked them safely in his pocket. Whenever he gets a slot of free time—it didn’t matter if it was a few seconds or minutes—he’d take it out and read through his list again and again. In fact, he’d done it so many times that he has remembered his list word for word.

At first, he considered getting off one station early and walk the rest of the journey. But he did exactly that when Akira invited him to the movies, and he was late by a whole hour. So instead he stays on the train, not realising that he has already missed his stop and has to spend _ more _money to get to the right station. 

When he arrived, he was late by a whole two hours. Akira was sitting at the station benches reading a book. When he looked up, Yusuke was expecting anger, annoyance, anything but a smile. But smiled he did. He poked fun at Yusuke, joking about him getting off a stop earlier to save money. Yusuke humoured him for a while before they went to get ice cream. The ice cream vendor is a friendly old man, who wears a straw hat with a blue bow. The man gives a few pats on Akira’s shoulder when he thinks Yusuke isn’t looking, and Akira grins. 

After finishing their ice cream, Akira brings him to a quaint art shop with a distinctive red and blue sign. The mere sight of the sign was enough to make Yusuke go into a rant about colour theory. Akira listened to him half heartedly, pulling his arm and dragging him into the shop in an effort to calm him down. And calm down he did, for the moment he laid his eyes on the price tag, he immediately forgot what he wanted to say about bad usage of neon colours. 

Something inside him snapped. It was like a wild beast that laid dormant in his heart woke up and broke free from its chains. He could almost hear Futaba say: “Don’t you want to go feral?” in that sing song voice she always used whenever she teased someone. He immediately grabbed a basket and filled it with whatever he thought was a good deal—which was pretty much the entire store, now that he thought about it—and by the time he was done he had filled at least three baskets. 

The entire time, the shop owner doesn't say anything. He just watched with an amused smile. Yusuke only ends up purchasing half a basket’s worth of items as he was unable to afford them all. The cashier continued grinning as he rang up the items and bagged them.

* * *

It takes him quite a while to locate the Kurusu residence. The building is nested at a slope, giving it the impression that it looks bigger than it actually is. It is late afternoon. The house is seemingly devoid of any activity, not even the slightest hint of movements that he can make out through the frosted windows. 

But there is no need to fret, for soon it will be evening and they’ll return home from work. Or at least that’s what he wants to believe. They’ll probably glare at him, or shoo him away as if he were a beggar who had groveled on their front door for spare change. 

The atmosphere is calm. The wind is a little chilly, just how he likes it. It picks up a few dried leaves on the ground and carries them down the path. The wind increases in speed, tousling his blue bangs and blowing more stray leaves off tree branches. 

There is a tap on his shoulder. 

“Are ya looking for the Kurusus?” He turns around to see a smiling old man wearing a straw hat. The thing that first catches Yusuke’s eye is the bright blue bow on his hat. 

“Yes, do you happen to—”

“I’m afraid they’ve moved. I think they left a few weeks ago.” 

“I am aware. But perhaps you—”

“Sorry, don’t know. Took off without a word.” The old man then shakes his head slowly, his gaze lingering on the ground.

“That’s okay.” Yusuke says, realising that his voice is meeker than usual.

“Ya seem hungry. Want some ice cream? My treat.” The old man offers, pointing at his stand. 

The idea of a cold sugary treat—at zero cost no less—is very, _ very _ tempting, but he finds himself shaking his head. The old man gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“I see. Sorry about that, can’t offer anything other than ice cream. It’s what I do for a living after all.” He adjusts his hat. Despite it being a relatively cool day, there is still perspiration on his wrinkled skin, leaving stains on his white singlet. 

“Ya know, Kurusu would always come by my stall when he was a wee middle schooler. After school he’d always buy a cone. A loyal customer he was. His parents didn’t like it. Warned him to not even _ look _ at my direction, but he defied them and continued buying from me occasionally. Bless his soul.”

Yusuke remembers Akira telling him this story before, many times in fact. It’s almost as if he was proud of it. 

* * *

Yusuke was reluctant to let Akira pick up the tab. They bantered about it during the meal, but for some reason Yusuke couldn’t shake off the guilt for making him pay for his food on the first date. He would be okay with him paying fully for later dates—perhaps the fifth—but the online dating articles he’d read had demonised the idea of not splitting the bill on the first. After half an hour of passing the responsibility back and forth, they agreed on splitting it sixty to forty. 

They leave the restaurant, hands intertwined. One of the staff—a middle aged woman—muttered something about teenagers, but it was too soft for their ears to pick up and frankly, who cares.

At some point Akira started swinging their arms wildly back and forth like an enthusiastic child, before laughing for no apparent reason. Soon after Yusuke started laughing with him, because how can he help it when his laughter is so contagious. It takes them a while to calm down and for Akira to stop swinging their arms. 

Yusuke took a breath and looked upwards at the indigo tinted sky. What he did not expect was to see _ stars _. Not white specks he would splatter across his canvas, but real, authentic stars that twinkle and decorate the sky. Like most city folk, he’s only seen stars through pictures on the internet. 

“It’s pretty, right?” Akira asks. He was grinning from ear to ear. 

“It is. Who would’ve thought! Even pictures cannot compare.”

“Right! Tokyo’s light pollution is really bad. You can’t even _ see _ anything. I really missed the stars while I was there.”

Yusuke’s never heard of light pollution before. While he was aware of other forms of pollution, he wouldn’t have guessed that excessive light was harmful (now that he thinks about it, the night sky at Tokyo is always tinted with a sickly yellow).

Akira suddenly stopped in his tracks and stood in front of him, gripping his shoulders and looking at him with that same wide grin. “You wanna look at them up closer?”

How could he say no to that smile. 

They sneak past the cleaning staff and onto the rooftop of the mall. Yusuke wanted to ask why he didn’t prefer to stargaze at his house instead, but refrains (because there’s always a reason, and right now it probably isn’t the best time). Yusuke nearly tripped at one point and Akira tried his hardest not to laugh too loudly. 

When they make it to the roof, they were panting as though they had taken a jog around town. They held onto the cold metal railings and lifted their heads up to see the starry sky in all its glory. The stars continue to twinkle like polished diamonds against a backdrop of dark blues, purples and hints of green if they look closely enough. The photographs he’s seen on the internet cannot and never will compare.

Akira started laughing—giggling—again. Whether or not it was something on his face or he’s getting high off the atmosphere, it didn’t matter because his giggles are music to Yusuke’s ears. He then envelops him in a hug. He had watched people on television doing it, embracing their significant while taking in the sunset at a beach or at a balcony. He felt giddy with Akira’s body so close to his own, such that as Akira muffled his voice in his shoulder he could feel his own body resonate.

Akira continued clinging onto Yusuke like a koala bear to a tree branch while grabbing a fistful of the edge of Yusuke’s shirt. They remained in that position for a while, enjoying the presence of each other’s company. Below, a street lamp began to flicker a few times. 

“You’re warm…” Akira muttered, or at least that was what Yusuke thought he was saying, for his face was still pressed against his chest. Yusuke reached out to ruffle his curly mop that is his hair. It was only then that he began to notice how his breathing was laboured, how cold his hands were. 

* * *

After half an hour, Yusuke reaches the mall’s rooftop. It’s around this time that people start appearing in the mall. There are many that come in groups and they are usually the obnoxious ones that clamour around the restaurants, as though they have megaphones lodged in their throats. As he shuts the door to the roof, the loud voices become muted and only then can he temporarily relax. 

His stomach growls. Thankfully he’s packed his own dinner--sticky rice with bean sprouts covered in packaged gravy—for he is unable to afford the absurd prices at the restaurants. Even if he does have the money, he doesn’t feel like eating in a public area full of loud diners.

He finds a dry spot to sit down and opens the lid of the plastic takeout container. The gravy smells stale but food is food. He shovels down a few mouthfuls of rice and leans his head on the cool metal railing. The sky is exactly the same, except the stars feel dull and the blue-purple colour of sky feels washed out. 

After picking up the last remaining grains with his spoon, he checks his phone to find his notifications filled with unread text messages (most of them are from Futaba). They’re asking if he’s okay, telling him to be careful. He prepares to type back a reply, to tell them he’s fine, there’s nothing to worry about, but all he can do is stare at his keyboard and blink in sync with the text cursor. 

He continues to stare at the screen for a while, floating along internal streams of consciousness. For a while, everything is static. At some point he feels the ground beneath him turn to jello and then he’s beginning to sink. His view grows smaller and the darkness only grows and grows until everything is consumed by the night sky, whose vastness he’ll never know or understand. 

He floats around in the jello world. The very atmosphere weighs him down like a heavy blanket and he can’t move an inch. Only when he feels something prodding him does he begin to stir. The jello world melts and harsh light assaults his eyes when he pries them open. It takes him a while to realise that he’s shivering and his body is damp with morning dew. 

“Oi, you okay?” The gruff and unrefined voice asks, which Yusuke recognises it belonging to the ice cream vendor from yesterday. The straw hat on his head is tilting to the side.

Yusuke opens his mouth to answer, but all that comes out of his throat are dry rasps. He can hear his shallow breathing—in his ears—and struggles to steer his mind away to other things. 

The old man clicks his tongue and mutters something about children under his breath, reaching out into his pocket to pull out a blister pack filled with red and blue pills. 

“For your headache.” He pops a pill from the packet and hands it to Yusuke’s open palms. He throws his head back, feeling a shiver of satisfaction running through his body, for a moment, before the ache in his muscles return. The old man places the back of his palm on Yusuke’s forehead.

“Yup. Got yourself a fever. This is why ya don’t sleep in the open.” The old man shakes his head disapprovingly. “Where are ya parents?”

Yusuke almost makes a crude joke but realises that he can’t form coherent words, so he just shakes his head. 

“No matter. There’s a clinic nearby. Can you stand?” The old man asks. He shakes his head again.

At the back of his mind, Yusuke can hear the chiding voices of his friends. Futaba is jeering something along the lines of ‘stupid inari’, Makoto is sighing in frustration along with Ann, Haru lets out a gasp, Ryuji is asking if he’s still alive, and Akira says something, but it’s too soft and faint. 

* * *

On the ride back, he does not dare to stare out at the countryside. Only when the train stops at Tokyo, the world a dull grey, does he dare to look out the window onto the towers of the gleaming city. The bright LED lights engulf the surrounding darkness, creating a glowing halo that covers the city like a wet blanket. 

While walking back to his dorm room, he notes the emptiness of the hallway. Despite the medicine, there is still a faint throbbing in his head. He throws his bags aside and collapses onto his bed. Usually he would toss and turn on the hard mattress for half an hour before sleep would overtake him, but he’s too tired, too sick to keep his eyes open. 

* * *

It is late July. Unseasonably hot conditions grip wide areas of Japan, with temperatures climbing to thirty five degrees in Tokyo. 

When Yusuke arrived, Akira was sitting up in his bed. He was shaking, saying over and over again that he’s cold. Seeing him like that scared Yusuke, and he called out to him. 

He’d never seen Akira this way. The whole time that he had known Akira, he was always so calm and level headed, sometimes cocky. He is the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Yusuke had always felt safe and secure whenever he was by his side, and now he’s gone; in his place was a scared and sickly boy draped in a bleached hospital gown. Yusuke was scared and upset he thought he was about to pass out. Akira was repeating something under his breath, it’s almost too soft to understand. It was only when Yusuke wrapped his trembling body in an embrace does he make out the words Akira was spilling from his lips.

“Sorry… sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you upset.” Akira said.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Yusuke said, rubbing his back.

“But then I… I’m going to be leaving you alone.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true…”

“No it’s not.”

“But they said it’s a—”

“It’s not true. Don’t listen to them.”

Akira started laughing. It started as a weird noise between snorting and sobbing, but soon it erupted into breathy giggles. 

* * *

When he wakes up the sun is shining brightly outside. It is morning. Yusuke takes his time getting out of bed, thankful that his headache is mostly gone. He reaches for his phone on the bedside drawer. It is a Saturday, which explains why the dorm building is so quiet.

He’s washing down two pills with a glass of tap water when there is a few knocks on his door. All his friends are gathered outside in their casual wear, faces contront with worry. When they see him, they immediately bombard him with questions. Where have you been, why didn’t you reply to our messages, we were so worried.

Ann grabs him by the shoulders with a grip so tight it turns her knuckles white. “We thought you had done something stupid!” Yusuke thinks back to the unanswered phone calls he had received yesterday, cluttering the notification panel.

“But I did not. I’m still here.” Yusuke replies.

“Then you should’ve called as soon as you could’ve!”

“Unfortunately I had fallen ill, so the thought never occurred to me. I’m sorry.”

Ann tightens her grip even further and begins to shake him. “I was so worried that I couldn’t sleep!”

“That’s enough,” Makoto says with a firm voice. Ann stops to look at her. “Just don’t… scare us like that in the future, okay?” She gives Yusuke a gentle smile which faintly reminds Yusuke of his own mother. Whenever his mother smiled, it was always soft and kind.

For the next few hours, they sit down in a circle and talk, mostly about school. At some point Futaba mentions the newest season for Featherman Ranger and proposes going to a con at Akihabara that will take place next year. Ryuji has brought a large bag of chips with him and places it in the middle of their circle. The bag is soon empty, and Ryuji replenishes it with a large bag of crispy seaweed.

It is twelve when they are preparing to leave. Haru invites Yusuke to lunch (her treat) but he declines. As soon as his friends leave he collapses back onto his bed, feeling even more tired than before. For a while he stares at the ceiling, contemplating where his energy has gone.

Evening rolls when there is another knock at his door. Wriggling out of bed, he opens it to be greeted by Hifumi Togo. While she is a popular figure in school, he never got to know her on a personal level; he only acknowledges her because she’s Akira friend. He explains to her that he’s sick, and she nods.

“I brought some chicken soup. I heard you haven’t been attending classes lately and I got worried,” Hifumi says. She shows him the steel soup container that she’s holding. 

It is only then does he realise that he hasn’t had anything besides chips and crispy seaweed. His stomach seems to agree and lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. He graciously accepts the food and gives a short bow. 

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to do this.” Yusuke says.

“Nonsense. I am just looking out for a fellow schoolmate,” Hifumi replies.

“Still, I feel bad. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“There is. You can rest up so you can attend classes again next week.”

Yusuke chuckles. “I will keep that in mind. Thank you again.”

She smiles. “Akira was lucky to have someone like you.”

They say their goodbyes. Yusuke gulps down the soup and devours the slices of chicken and carrots as if it were his last meal. His tongue burns but he doesn’t find the energy to care. He places the container in the sink along with the other dishes that are beginning to pile up and form an entirely new ecosystem. 

The orange hues of late evening has faded and are replaced with yellow street lights. Yusuke knows that tonight he will not be seeing any stars. He opens his sketchbook and flips to a blank page. Picking up a charcoal pencil, he closes his eyes and tries to picture Akira’s curly mop of hair, his glasses that he wears for aesthetic purposes, the grin that he gives him whenever it’s just the two of them. He allows the pencil to flow across the paper, to capture the face of a person that now only exists in his memories. 

* * *

Yusuke remembered receiving a call from the hospital one afternoon. Akira had another seizure. He had already been in the hospital for a long time, and would sleep for long stretches, but every now and again he would be awoken by a seizure. The hospital would always let him know, and he’d run back to be with him. 

When he got there, Akira was sitting up on the bed, in pain. He tried to calm him down, but it got to a point where he had to call the nurse to give him a painkiller. An intravenous painkiller, the nurse told him. Akira was sleeping so peacefully, so peacefully it was hard to believe that he was in pain an hour ago. 

Yusuke was relieved, and sat on a chair next to the bed. Soon he drifted off to sleep. He had no idea how much time had passed, but when he woke up, he was greeted by two stern faces. 

“Please leave. There is something we have to discuss with him in private.”

Yusuke frowned, glaring at the man who spoke to him in such a crude tone. “Who are you?”

“They’re my parents.” A voice says. He looked over to see Akira sitting up in bed, clutching his hands together. 

Yusuke blinked once, twice. In the entire year they’ve been together, Akira had never introduced his parents. He did mention them once or twice but never went into detail about them. 

“You’ve heard him. I would really appreciate if you would let us have a moment with him.” The woman—Akira’s mother—said.

He wanted to stand his ground and say no, to shoo these strangers out of the door; but alas he cannot, for the sole fact that they are tied together by blood. He stood up and walked away, feeling Akira’s helpless gaze. Once he was outside he silently cursed his helplessness. 

He sat in the waiting room, waiting and waiting and watching patients and visitors and staff rush past him. He waited until his parents walked out of the ward, but by then visiting hours are over and he was forced to leave. 

* * *

The next and last time he received a call from the hospital was at five o'clock. He was at Shinjuku, eating crepes with Ann. The voice on the other side is professional, but laced with a hint of worry. He immediately makes a break to the train station, ignoring Ann’s shouts and pleas. But when he arrived it was too late. The ward is emptied and still.

A nurse saw him leaning against the wall in utter defeat and offered her condolences. 

“Im sorry, we did everything we could.” She said, and he wondered how many times she’s rehearsed this to grieving family members and friends. When he doesn’t reply, she continued, “at least he didn’t pass alone. He had his parents with him.”

The knowledge did not make Yusuke feel any better. As cruel as it sounded, he would’ve been better off in his final moments alone. Why them and not him? He just couldn’t understand, couldn't wrap his head around the unfairness of the world.

Yusuke asked the nurse about their whereabouts, but she just shrugged and offered to escort him to the receptionist. He shook his head and walked away, wanting nothing more than to be rid of her voice. 

He walked past sterile white hallways lined with sterile white rooms, and for a moment he thought that he saw a boy with messy curly hair sitting on one of the beds. He felt something within him sink—like a rock that had been thrown into a body of water—that lasted as long as necessary until a thump and an angry shout forced him to leave his gaze from the ground. He looked up just in time to see a middle-aged salaryman glare at him as he stormed away. Alas, for a short moment, he thought the man was Mr Kurusu. Was it because of his stern face? His unfriendly aura? Perhaps if he waited long enough he might come across a Mrs Kurusu lookalike. 

The evening sun had just begun its descent. People paid him no mind; the pale, lanky boy standing outside the hospital entrance. If they stopped to observe closer, they could catch a few stray tears falling from his eyes, staining his bony cheeks. 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Sula and the mods who organised this event! Without it god knows i wouldnt bother writing shit ｡^‿^｡  
Be sure to keep an eye out for her art once its posted! 
> 
> angst is my specialty and i am an edgy kid who wants to insert angst in everything, so heres the final product. had to explore a plot around the theme of stars/stargazing and my edgy ass wants angst. hopefully the plot isnt too vague aha. 
> 
> thank you for reading! <3


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